


Fever and Chills

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: (Felicia also reads too many romance novels but ya didn't hear it from me), (The closest to canon compliant I ever get anyway), Alternate Universe- People Use Fucking Birth Control, Canon Clompliant, Dancing, F/F, Felicia ships it, Fluff, Reading Together, Rinkah Plays Nurse, Sassy best friend Kaze, Sickfic, Snuggling, THIS IS SO FLUFFY ITS GETTING OUT OF HAND, Twin Corrins, WE MAY HAVE A PROBLEM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flora gets sick with a seasonal bug that's been going around-- not that she's apt to admit it, and not that it means she'll drop everything and get some rest that she desperately needs. Rinkah's not sure why she didn't just drop Flora off in the infirmary and return to her own life, but either way, that didn't happen. At least Rinkah doesn't get sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's sometime in early spring and Hoshido's seasonal flu has started going around. The twins have decided it best to separate Nohrians and Hoshidans during this time, because a Nohiran catching a flu only Hoshidans were used to could be an inconvenience at best and life-threatening at worst, and the same went during the winter when Nohr's equivalent made its rounds. It wouldn't have been a problem if they hadn't been spending springtime attached to Hoshido, but they were, so the bug came.  
  
Sakura had gotten it first because Sakura always gets these things first, and when she's not sneezing or coughing she's apologizing for the fact that it's sure to spread to someone else and start the bug going around. It skipped Hana at first and spread to Subaki, who vehemetly denied that he ever got sick despite the fact that his nose was running like a faucet and his eyes were as red as his hair. Subaki, in turn, gave it to Hana, who cursed like a sailor until she ran out of energy to do anything more than sulk as the medics set another compress on her fevered forehead. Mozu picked it up from Hana and didn't notice until Takumi noticed she was sneezing on all of the soybean plants, and that sent both of them to the infirmary. Oboro and Hinata naturally followed suit in a somewhat ironic display of devotion to their liege, though it probably wasn't purposeful, and although Azura had tried to avoid it, even she couldn't dodge it forever. Azura passed it to Hinoka who passed it to the twins, first Ash and then Silver (and that was the only way to tell them apart for a solid eighteen hours, until Silver picked it up too), and then Kaze had succumbed to it, though nobody doubted he was griping about the indignity of a ninja falling ill where the twins couldn't hear him.  
  
Although the twins had tried to keep Nohrians and Hoshidans in separate wings of the infirmary, it was only natural that someone on medic duty caught it— and to nobody's real surprise, that was Felicia. Poor Felicia had only wanted to help, and everyone healthy did wear treated masks to prevent them from getting sick, but it seemed the bug had found a way to get to her anyway, and that had been that.  
  
So it was to no one's surprise when Flora caught it, too. If Silver and Ash are any example, twins tend to pass illnesses more frequently than others. Still, Flora being Flora, she tried not to let anyone notice.  
  
Flora being Flora meant she tried to hide her illness— Rinkah being Rinkah, she noticed.  
  
The Flame Tribe's members never get sick from commin bugs like the Hoshidan Flu. Rinkah has never questioned why. Perhaps it's their naturally-high body temperatures; the reason you heat up when you're sick, after all, is because germs can't survive in hot environments and the fever is your body trying to kill them off. Of course, when Flame Tribe members do get sick, it's because they're at death's door, but that's beside the point. It'd take more than the Hoshidan Flu to do Rinkah in.  
  
Spending most of her time alone, by her own choice, meant that Rinkah tended to notice things about people, such as when they seemed to be slipping up. As such, she knew that Flora never slipped up— she made mistakes, but she always gracefully admitted to them and accepted whatever consequence came. Her back was always straight, movements always crisp as the morning after the winter's first snowfall; not angular enough to be inhuman, mind, but always elegant. Poised. Thoughtful. Perfect.  
  
Rinkah passes her in a corridor on the way to dinner one evening, and she's moving more slowly. Heavily, as if there were lead weights strapped to her limbs. Laboriously, as if it's taking every ounce of the strength Rinkah knows she has not to lean against the wall every six steps. There are three books in her hands— for Felicia, Rinkah figures, because being sick is boring and Flora doesn't read romance novels. (She prefers mysteries, stories about justice and excitement where the end may not seem clear, to the fluffy, emotional scenes of Felicia's favored books. They'd talked about books once, when she found Rinkah in the library trying to sort magical scrolls from history scrolls. Rinkah doesn't spend much of her time reading because her fingers singe the pages if she's not careful, and she'd rather meditate or train anyway.)  
  
The toe of her boot lands on a disparity between stone tiles when she steps. A Flora in good health wouldn't have noticed it, but this Flora does. As if the bare quarter-inch difference is much larger, Flora wobbles, stumbles, puts a hand on the wall beside her to steady herself. Although her feet land on the ground, knees bent to catch herself, the books tumble out of her arm and land with papery thumps on the stone floor.  
  
Rinkah picks them up before she knows what she's doing. "You're ill."  
  
"Well, Lady Rinkah, that's no way to greet someone," Flora says, very deliberately placing her foot on ground the same level as the other and straightening her back in that way she does, trying hard to smooth her skirts and look as poised as she always does. Her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed— anyone could look at her and say she was sick. It vexes Rinkah for a minute why nobody has.  
  
"Good morning, Lady Flora," Rinkah replies, her voice flat and unamused as she hands the books back. "You're ill."  
  
Flora takes the books. She's not ready for their weight, because her hands drop them again. She frowns, a stern frown as if she's about to lecture gravity for so rudely making her drop her books. "I don't believe you."  
  
Rinkah picks up the books and keeps them this time, tucks them in the crook of one muscular forearm. "I don't have to have you believe me for me to know you're ill."  
  
"What would I be ill with, then?" Flora challenges. She tilts her chin up just so, just so she can look Rinkah in the eye. Rinkah is built strong and stable, all broad shoulders and long, sturdy bones— but Flora and Felicia are petite, and though Rinkah doesn't know their exact height, she's certain it's the kind of height they may use in Ice Tribe territory to measure snowfall. Something even. Five feet, maybe. Rinkah is taller than her by ten inches.  
  
"The same thing everyone and their brother has been ill with," Rinkah answers. "The Hoshidan Flu. I expect you got it from your sister."  
  
Flora tilts her head. "That would make sense," she decides. "Still, I don't think I can be ill. I have work to do. I'm taking those books to the infirmary for Felicia, if you'll so kindly give them back to me."  
  
"I'll carry them," Rinkah says. "And I'll accompany you to the infirmary, if you don't mind. I'd like to make sure you make it there."  
  
"What are you insinuating, Lady Rinkah?" Flora demands, as they start to walk again. "I've been sicker than this before, you know. The twins used to bounce illnesses back and fourth before giving them to my sister and Jakob and myself, you know. And I've continued to serve them through anything they could pass along."  
  
"But you've never had the Hoshidan Flu, have you?" Rinkah replies. "You grew up in Nohr, unless I'm mistaken."  
  
"The Hoshidan Flu," Flora says, all matter-of-fact, "Seems to me to be only slightly different from a bout of the same seasonal illness we have in Nohr. Coughing, fever and chills, headache— all minor symptoms of a relatively minor illness. I'm certain I can weather this as well as I could any other illness."  
  
As if on cue, the first stair down to the exterior walkway catches her off-guard. She nearly ends up sprawled on the ground if not for Rinkah catching her, handing her the books, and picking her up with the same ease as she would a bamboo training axe. They have touched before, though always coincidentally— brushing past one another in the halls, absent touches of hands that always felt too cold to Rinkah and too hot to Flora.  
  
(They shared a dance once, on one of those rare nights the Allies could take a break and enjoy themselves. Rinkah pressed her hot lips to the back of Flora's hand as Nohrians did. Warm hands on cool waists, cold hands on hot shoulders. Hands intertwined in thermal equilibrium at their meeting point. They waltzed for a song and a half and then Flora had to help take the somewhat-inebriated twins to bed, but Rinkah still sometimes thought about the way Flora's hand had lingered in hers for a minute; she deliberately did not think about the way something buzzing in her head and her heart wanted to take Flora's hand and kiss it again, kiss it harder, pull her closer and kiss her, kiss her, kiss her— kiss her until her core stopped burning and Flora wasn't going to leave.)  
  
Rinkah carries her now, but it is not like that dance. Rinkah supposes, to herself, that nothing ever will be.  
  
"Lady Flora," Rinkah decides. "You're ill. And if I have to play nursemaid for you for the entire duration of your illness, you are going to get proper rest and care throughout it."  
  
Flora cannot argue, much as she tries. Rinkah carries her to the infirmary with little arguing. In very short order, Flora is in her nightdress, in bed, well before she usually retired to her chambers. In the interest of preventing these illnesses from spreading, Flora has her own room— Felicia is feeling much better and expects to be able to get back to business as usual by the next morning. If she weren't Rinkah didn't doubt they'd be sharing.  
  
"I am so, so sorry," Felicia says when Rinkah hands her the books. "Flora picked it up from me, didn't she? This always happens, it happened a lot when we were kids— I'd get something, then she'd catch it, then I'd get it again, and— oh, well, I suppose you already know that's how siblings tend to work. I suppose with the twins, it's lucky Garon kept them separate from the others, otherwise I'm sure they'd have gotten pneumonia when everyone else did. Now I wasn't there for that, but it was reportedly awful, having all four royal siblings sick at the same time, I'm sure you can imagine— Oh, thank you for the books, by the way, um, am I boring you? Flora says I tend to ramble when she's not there to stop me—"  
  
"You're welcome," Rinkah interrupted. "And she's right. Please stop."  
  
That was a little harsh, and Rinkah regrets saying it when she sees Felicia's gray eyes water. "O-of course," Felicia stammers. "Sorry. Um, I'll be by to visit Flora later, if that's okay? I'll bring her dinner."  
  
"Why are you asking me this?" Rinkah asks, frowning. She sees Felicia wilt under her gaze. Felicia reminds her of frost on windows and the powder of freshly-fallen snow— glittering but transitory, liable to melt at the slightest touch. Rinkah forces herself to sound a bit kinder, for Felicia's benefit. "Sorry. I mean, I'm not the medic. And I'm sure Izana would be fine with you stopping by to visit at any time."  
  
"Oh, well," Felicia sounds surprised. "You brought her here, so I thought you'd be staying? Flora's spoken highly of you, so I assumed you were friends."  
  
That was news to Rinkah. "We're not… friends, exactly," she tried to say.  
  
Felicia seems to realize something, though what it is is a mystery to Rinkah. "Oh! Oh, of course. That's alright, so long as Flora's happy. Um— I should get going. C-congratulations, though! Um, I'll see you later."  
  
Felicia scurries off before Rinkah can ask what she means. Rinkah has had many conversations that leave her with more questions than she had at the start, but this is a first for a conversation with Flora's sister. And certainly, she's talked to Flora before, since she joined the twins' army, but not enough so Rinkah would necessarily call them friends.  
  
Still puzzling, she returns to the chair at Flora's bedside. Flora watches her move, soft gray eyes stil bright with fever, trying to look as poised as she always is with her hair down and tumbling over her back and a pink shawl drawn around her not-quite-perfectly-squared shoulders. Her hands are clasped above the quilt on her lap. Rinkah has never seen her in anything but her uniform, and that covers all of her but anything above her chin or past her wrists. Her skin is pale and free of blemishes, soft and creamy like the milk Kaze pours into his coffee in the morning because he thinks the Nohrians had the right idea about making it more palatable. (Rinkah thinks milk is for cats, and drinks hers black and piping-hot.) Her nightgown is white linen and trimmed with soft lace, and its wide sleeves stop just above her elbows, so Rinkah can see the hollow in her chest made where her collarbones meet and all the way down to the pink tips of her fingers. (Rinkah wants to take her hand and trace the lines in her palm, press kisses to her knuckles and the heel of her hand and the cord of her wrist— but for what? Rinkah cannot pinpoint these desires, and it angers her.)  
  
She is perfect. Rinkah wants to glare at her until she stops lying to herself. But that wouldn't be the best idea, so she doesn't.  
  
"Your sister thinks we're friends," she says instead.  
  
"Aren't we?" Flora replies.  
  
"I didn't think so."  
  
"I think we are."  
  
"You didn't tell me that."  
  
Flora smiles, a self-satisfied little smile that Rinkah recognizes as different from the polite, false one that doesn't reach her eyes. This one makes them close, and tilts her head upwards. "I didn't think I needed to."  
  
Rinkah scowls. As vexing as it is that nobody else noticed how sick Flora was, it's even more vexing that she's still infuriatingly perfect when she's in the infirmary with the Hoshidan Flu.  
  
"I'm not here to make friends," Rinkah says.  
  
"Making friends is one of those things that happens whether you try or not," Flora replies, and Rinkah narrows her eyes when she says it. If there's one person who can manage to say things like that when they're sick, she shouldn't be surprised that it's Flora.  
  
"Still," Rinkah mutters.  
  
Flora sobers. "Is it really that vexing for you, to be friends with me?"  
  
Great, now Rinkah feels bad. This is why she keeps to herself. People's feelings are fragile, and in Rinkah's hands, they tend to bruise. The Flame Tribe's tradition of solitude serves to teach its disciples about the fire within them-- that their fire burns bright and warm and gives life and hope to those around it, but without control, it can cause danger and destruction. Rinkah didn't realize that extended to people's feelings, too.  
  
"It's not," she says, carefully. Rinkah doesn't understand why her head is filled with Flora's gentle hands and soft pink lips, and it scares her that she could hurt Flora without meaning to— that soft skin must bruise easily, and Rinkah's nature is not gentle. She burns bright and hot, and she is certain Flora needs a delicate touch, or thick gloves so Rinkah does not melt her frost-flowers into slush.  
  
"If we can't be friends," Flora says, and Rinkah cannot be sure if the hoarseness of her voice is from fever or not, "It's alright. But I like being around you, and I think… I think we could learn a lot from each other. We've had good conversations." She licks her lips, tightens her clasped hands. (Was it too much for Rinkah to hope she remembered that dance, too? Rinkah wants to bring it up, to remind her, to try again with proper kisses this time, but she is afraid— she hates being afraid. She hates Flora and loves her at once for making her feel so incredibly afraid and incredibly alive.)  
  
"We have," Rinkah agrees. She tries to sound impassive. It probably doesn't work.  
  
Flora sighs, and lets herself lean back. Her hands relax. Rinkah lets hers rest on her knees. Flora's hair splays out on the feather-stuffed pillow at her back (how many poor birds are plucked for pillow-stuffings in Nohr?) in daggers of icy-blue over the white cotton stitching of the pillowcases. If it weren't for the fevered pink of her cheeks, she would look like winter— blue and white and gray. But Flora is too alive to be wintertime, Rinkah thinks. She is elegant and poised, but she is undoubtedly human.  
  
Rinkah remembers that she's sick. She stands to leave. "I should let you rest," she decides.  
  
"Can't you stay?" Flora asks, and Rinkah pauses. She furrows her brows, looks back at Flora in confusion.  
  
"Why would you want me to?" It's blunter than she expects, but Flora knows what to expect from Rinkah's bluntness at this point.  
  
"Because we're friends, aren't we?" The way she asks makes it clear to Rinkah that Flora is letting herself reach out— that she thinks Rinkah will be a good person to talk to, a tactical choice for friendship.  
  
Rinkah doesn't want to be friends. But she sits down again, and nods. "I'll stay, then."  
  
And Flora smiles at her, a smile that makes her gray eyes shimmer in happiness, and Rinkah thinks the world just got a little brighter. There is a warmth in her core that is not the same as the burning she felt that night when they danced. She doesn't feel so afraid.  
  
Flora takes one of her hands and pulls it onto her lap, and Rinkah has no choice but to go along with it. She plays with Rinkah's fingers, presses its back to her fevered cheek, and Rinkah is glad she left off her arm-guards and wrappings for dinnertime. Her sun-brown skin sticks out like a sore thumb against Flora's porcelain. Flora is hot to her touch, and given Rinkah's high temperature, Flora's probably burning up.  
  
"Your hands are so nice," Flora hums, and Rinkah is certain she's delirious. "So soft and cool."  
  
"That's because you have a fever," Rinkah replies.  
  
"Shh," Flora insists, pressing the back of Rinkah's hand to her forehead. Her hands are smaller than Rinkah's— soft and pink-tipped, made for folding laundry and throwing daggers, not toting an axe. Rinkah takes her other hand and sets it over Flora's before she knows what she's doing.  
  
Rinkah is careful with her touches. She doesn't know what Flora is doing, but she doesn't want to deny it— she has known for a long time, of course, of her own preference for women, but she has no way of knowing if Flora is the same way. Hoshido may have been accepting of that sort of thing, but Rinkah has never had the opportunity to learn if Nohr was the same way. She supposes she'll have to ask the twins after this.  
  
"Are you sure you shouldn't try to get some rest?" Rinkah asks.  
  
"After dinner," Flora insists. "You'll stay with me until then, won't you? It'll be so boring without anyone to talk to."  
  
"Fine," Rinkah sighs. "If you want me to."  
  
"That's good, because I do want you to," Flora says. "Is Felicia bringing it, or…"  
  
"She is," Rinkah says. "Though I may not know her well, I'm not certain that's a good idea, given her… track record."  
  
"She can do it," Flora insists. "I have faith in her abilities."  
  
"I think I made her cry by accident," Rinkah admits, and Flora frowns.  
  
"That was mean of you," she says.  
  
"It was," Rinkah says. "I'm sorry."  
  
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Flora chides. "When Felicia gets back here, see that you do."  
  
"I will," Rinkah promises, though something in her claims this is stupid, since she apologized already— but it's Flora, and Rinkah is finding more and more that her common sense makes a number of exceptions for Flora's sake.  
  
They keep talking. For once, Rinkah doesn't care how trivial the topic is— they could've been talking about training regiments or swapping anecdotes and she wouldn't have cared, because listening to Flora speak, really speak, tasted sweeter to her ears than any pastry would to her tongue. (And there were times when Rinkah stopped listening and stared at her lips, soft pink things that Rinkah wanted to kiss, run her tongue along them as if she could draw out every word Flora could ever say and keep it forever in her ears.) And Flora laughed sometimes, if Rinkah said something she found funny, and it's a high, almost girlish giggle that reminds Rinkah of the little silver bells Nohrian farmers tie to their berry vines to let them know if squirrels were trying to steal their harvest. She hadn't laughed when they danced.  
  
And she quiets after awhile, long enough that Rinkah thinks she's fallen asleep, were it not for her fingers idly playing with Rinkah's on her lap. Rinkah doesn't try to talk— the Flame Tribe has taught her the value of companionable silence, and Rinkah thinks some of the better relationships she's formed were mostly by sitting together and watching flames crackle and burn.  
  
A strand of soft, pale hair falls from behind Flora's ear and falls over her eye. Rinkah reaches out to correct it, hesitates, and then tucks it back where it belongs. Her calloused fingers ghost across Flora's skin, gentler than Rinkah has ever deliberately been before— she handles Flora carefully, as one would catch a snowflake. Her skin is so soft beneath Rinkah's fingers. Her breathing is congested with sickness, but Rinkah does not doubt her heart still beats as strong as ever.  
  
For a minute, she thinks Flora didn't notice. But then she mumbles, "Do you remember that time we danced?"  
  
I could never forget, Rinkah wants to say. She swallows and says instead, "I didn't think you did."  
  
"I have a good memory," Flora dismisses. Rinkah believes her, but some maudlin part of her dearly, dearly hopes she remembered for the same reason Rinkah does. "You picked up the Windmire Waltz like a natural."  
  
"Dancing comes easily to me, though I'm more used to… different steps," Rinkah admits. "We have dances in the Flame Tribe. Less structured, though. Like the way fire moves— that's where we learn."  
  
"Clearly, that's a useful skill," Flora remarks. "But you're an easier student to teach than my sister. Though I heard Azura succeeded. Something about purposeful toe-stepping."  
  
Rinkah cannot begin to imagine what that means, nor does she question it. She licks her lips, and wants to say I didn't do it properly last time, let me try it again, but her throat closes up before she can.  
 "It was a nice evening," Flora's saying, turning Rinkah's hand over in hers and examining her knuckles. "And you kissed my hand. Like…"  
  
Rinkah flushes, face burning hotter than Flora's fevered lips as she presses them to the two biggest knuckles on Rinkah's hand. Flora lets her lips linger there for perhaps longer than is necessary. Rinkah feels her heart pound louder than the drums of her home village.  
  
"Like that," Rinkah says hoarsely. Before she knows what she's doing, she's pressing a kiss to Flora's hand in the exact same way. Then again, harder, then her knuckles and fingertips and then she's flipping it over and kissing the heel of her hand, her wrist— Flora runs her fingers through Rinkah's messy hair and Rinkah looks up, and she makes herself stop. Flora looks at her through gray eyes bright with fever and confused, her head aching too badly to make much sense of this. Rinkah swallows.  
  
"Like that," she repeats, quieter, her face burning. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."  
  
"Your lips are nice," Flora murmurs, reaching out to touch them.  
  
"You're ill," Rinkah remembers. And probably delirious.  
  
"You will be too, if you stay here," she says, and it's as rational and pragmatic as Rinkah would expect from one such as Flora.  
  
"I don't get sick," Rinkah denies.  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
"But I do."  
  
Flora gives her an even look. "I don't believe you."  
  
Rinkah shrugs. "You don't have to believe me for it to be true. It takes more than the Hoshidan Flu to bring a Flame Tribe denizen down for the count."  
  
"Is that why you keep kissing me?" Flora asks, her head tilting. "Because you know you won't get sick?"  
  
Rinkah knows why she kept kissing her, except she can't put it into words without setting something on fire. "If I get sick kissing you, I'll consider it a battle well fought."  
  
She immediately cringes once the words are out. There are no words for what Rinkah said except lame— completely, utterly, irrevocably, irredeemably lame. She wants to vacate the premises and dunk her head in a bucket of ice water to cool her burning face. Maybe then she'll get over this.  
  
But Flora's still holding her hand, and she doesn't want to pull away from the satin-soft touch.  
  
Flora sits up, her movements heavy, and Rinkah helps her. She motions for Rinkah to come closer, and Rinkah does.  
  
"I didn't say I minded," Flora murmurs, and she presses a kiss to Rinkah's cheek.  
  
It takes all of Rinkah's willpower to prevent from literally bursting into flame.


	2. Chapter 2

But sickness does not resolve itself with kisses on the hand, so Felicia spends the night in the infirmary. She spends a week in the infirmary, in fact, and though her life is in no danger, it's better safe than sorry. And Rinkah visits— she's not one to neglect her training, but she's not so much neglecting it as she is balancing it with her newfound maybe-friendship with Flora. (Rinkah has had friends before, and she isn't sure the amount of kissing she and Flora do quite counts them as friends. And indeed, Rinkah knows the burning in her core she feels for Flora is not one typically felt between friends.)  
  
Kaze catches her on her way there, once. And Rinkah supposes she can consider Kaze a friend, but he's awfully fond of annoying her for one she considers a friend.  
  
"On our way to see miss Flora again, are we?" he asks, and Rinkah knows not to elbow him in the ribs because he startled her, as that didn't go so well last time. If he'd stop his damned sneaking around, her life would get much easier.  
  
"Yes," Rinkah says instead, shifting the mystery novel Flora had mentioned wanting to read in the crook of her arm. "As a matter of fact, I am."  
  
 "How kind of you," Kaze remarks. "Flora's quite lucky to have such a devoted partner."  
  
"No one said anything about partners," Rinkah grumbles, glaring at him. "Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?"  
  
"A ninja needs to know things," he says, and Rinkah wants to roll her eyes and punch him in the jaw because she knows full well Kaze keeps up on gossip better than a group of old ladies in a knitting circle. (She's not positive if he knits or not— regardless, he'd fit right in.)  
  
"I have to say," he keeps going. "I think you two are a good match, regardless of the logistics of fire and ice, and all. Things could get quite… steamy."  
  
Rinkah whirls on him. Kaze is a tall man, but that's never stopped her before. She fixes a fist in his scarf and gives him her best "Wrath of the Fire Dragon" glare. Kaze, to her ire, does not wither.  
  
"Don't," she seethes.  
  
Kaze raises an eyebrow. "Only an observation."  
  
"A smart-alec one," Rinkah replies, releasing his scarf. "I hope you never have children. They'll have to put up with your jokes from infancy, and I for one cannot imagine subjecting a child to that."  
  
Kaze chuckles. "We cannot control others, my friend, only ourselves."  
  
Rinkah scoffs. Felicia pokes her head out of Flora's room then, and she lights up, for reasons unfathomable to Rinkah.  
  
"Oh! Rinkah!" she says, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. "And Kaze, hello!"  
  
"I was on my way out, actually," Kaze says. "Have fun with Flora, Rinkah."  
  
"Kindly nail your hands to a tree," Rinkah grumbles.  
  
"And you have a lovely day, too," Kaze replies cooly. He winks at Felicia-- since when are they conspiring?-- and then vanishes in a puff of smoke.  
  
Felicia giggles. "You've been spending a lot of time with my sister, haven't you?"  
  
Rinkah sighs. She can't be too harsh with Felicia, vexing as the teasing is. "She requested I read with her. And I do enjoy her company."  
  
"Sh-she'll be glad to see you," Felicia volunteers. "Flora's been telling me how much she enjoys your visits."  
  
Despite herself, Rinkah's cheeks color. "She does?"  
  
"Oh, yes!" Felicia nods rapidly enough to make her ponytail bounce. "She tells me all the time, you know, and I'm really happy for her-- f-for you both, and I'm really glad your relationship is working out. Felicia's always been so focused on her job, you know, and I am too, but she's the one of us who's good at it, s-so she hasn't really thought about much else-- a-and honestly I was worried once she joined that she wouldn't be able to make friends! But it looks like that's going to be okay, so, um, thank you for that."  
  
Rinkah blinks. "You're welcome?" she guesses.  
  
Felicia looks around, as if looking for someone. "Well, I guess I should be going," she decides, stepping sideways out of the room and bobbing in a quick, almost hurried curtsy to Rinkah. "Um, have fun, you two!"  
  
She darts off before Rinkah can question. Rinkah watches her go, then enters Flora's room.  
  
Flora is standing, pink shawl pinched around her shoulders, straightening the vase of tulips on her windowsill. From the twins, probably— for some reason, they managed to keep straight every obscure detail of everyone in the entire Alliance. The soft, lacy hem of her nightgown brushes just below her knees. She's barefoot on the wood floor, and Rinkah wonders why she didn't get her slippers if they're just at the side of her bed.  
  
"Aren't your feet cold?" she asks, closing the door behind her.  
  
Flora turns, and gives her a little smile. Flora smiles easily, Rinkah has noticed, but it's almost like a game to determine which ones are real. This one is absent, but Rinkah figures there is no use faking a smile when it's just them. "A bit. One of the vases was skewed, so I got up to fix it."  
  
"Are there any others?" Rinkah asks, squinting at the vases lined up on the windowsill. "You get back in bed, I'll fix it."  
  
Flora gives her an amused glance that Rinkah, still inexperienced with reading others' emotions, cannot truly place, and sits back on the edge of her bed, tucking her slender calves back under the covers and pulling the quilt over her knees. She seems to be feeling much better, though she blows her nose into a handkerchief clumsily embroidered with mountain-flowers the next minute. But her fever seems to have broken, so RInkah figures she'll be back to work as soon as Izana lets her.  
  
"It's nice of you to visit," Flora says, once Rinkah has sat down in the chair next to the bed, mystery novel on her lap.  
  
"I've visited every day for the past week."  
  
"Still, it's nice of you."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
Flora smiles. Real or false? It's small enough that Rinkah cannot tell with certainty, but her eyes glimmer with amusement, so it could be real. Rinkah likes her real smiles.  
  
"I brought your book," Rinkah says. "You mentioned you wanted to read it together?"  
  
"If that was alright with you," Flora agrees, nodding her head. Her pale hair tumbles about her shoulders, floating in fine strands on the air. Rinkah wonders what it might feel like between her fingers, beneath her lips, and shoves the impulse beneath years of Flame Tribe training. If a fire chased its every urge, it would burn for days and destroy all in its path— thus denizens learns to check themselves before this happens. Rinkah has never thought of her own feelings as a fire before, but what burns in her core is not the flame that drives her through combat. It feels pleasantly warm, a lovely shade of coral-pink at its tips and orange at its center, embers glistening with a pink so deep it is almost purple and blue.  
  
She wonders if Flora has a flame. She imagines it as a candle-flame lit in oil; small and blue and warm behind spun glass— it is kind and tempered, and keeps hands warm on cold winter nights. Next to her, Rinkah feels like a wildfire. She must be careful not to swallow her whole. It scares her; she has never quite been able to handle things delicately.  
  
"I thought you might like this one, so that's why I requested it," Flora explains, taking the book from Rinkah's hands. (Their hands brush. Rinkah is certain the pink dusting Flora's cheeks is leftover from her fever; she cannot let herself think anything else.) "Seven people, all convieniently color-coded, are invited to a lord's party on a dark and stormy night, when the staff all start dying one by one, the guests have to work together to find out who is targeting them. It's a riveting read."  
  
"You've already read it?" Rinkah asks.  
  
"Yes, but you haven't," Flora replies. She scoots over and pats the side of the bed, gesturing for Rinkah to sit next to her.  
  
Rinkah sits. "So why are you reading it again? I told you I don't read much."  
  
Flora frowns, looking disappointed. "I just thought you might like it. That we could read it together. You don't mind, do you?"  
  
"No, no, of course not," Rinkah says, before she thinks. "Do you want me to read it, or…"  
  
"You hold it, and I'll read," Flora instructs. They're close together on the bed— it isn't enough for Flora, and she ducks under Rinkah's arm to open the book to the first page. Rinkah tries not to blush and fails. She is so close— Rinkah's bare arm feels cold where the skin of Flora's neck touches. Flora feels like a breath of cool air, the other side of a blanket on a humid day, only she will not warm up when Rinkah's head rests there long enough. Rinkah lets her arm nestle around Flora's shoulders. Flora does not mind, and leans her head on Rinkah's chest. It is an intimate position, but Rinkah cannot bring herself to protest— she wants this, she finds, wants this closeness as much as she did the night they danced. Flora is soft and sculpted in her arms. Her heartbeat thrums smoothly beneath her skin. Rinkah could watch the rise and fall of her breathing for hours. She is soft, kind, gentle, elegant. Rinkah is none of the above, and yet, she has the audacity to want.  
  
Flora's voice is measured and soft as she reads. The pitch and timbre of her voice roll along the words like snowdrifts that pile with the falling snow, drawing Rinkah into the story better than any words alone ever could. Rinkah finds herself enraptured, more by the voice than by the story— Flora's voice is soft and velvet and reminds her of the way the thinnest flower petals feel between her thick fingertips.  
  
Rinkah is no blushing innocent. She can place this feeling.  
  
The chapters are short. Flora pauses at a scene in the fifth, when two of the guests are investigating the ballroom and the woman says she used to ballroom dance. Her company, a younger woman who has not spoken much until this point, asks why she doesn't anymore. It is a complicated answer, Rinkah knows, but that is not why Flora stops.  
  
"Why did you stop?" Rinkah asks, the spell broken. Flora is frowning pensively at the page.  
  
"I wonder why they stopped to dance," she wonders.  
  
"I don't think there has to be a reason," Rinkah ventured. "Like…"  
  
Flora looks at her, brow furrowed. "Like when we did it, is that what you were going to say?"  
  
Rinkah swallows. She cannot help the lump in her throat. "Yes."  
  
And Flora exhales. "That was a nice night," she says, and her voice sounds strangely hoarse, as if she's holding back.  
  
Rinkah licks her lips, and breathes. "Nohrians," she ventures, "Are supposed to kiss the hands of the ones they're courting, aren't they?"  
  
Flora nods. Rinkah wonders if this is the time to be bold— her hand is moving to take Flora's without her meaning to, but she is aware. She is aware, and could not stop if she wanted to.  
  
They lock eyes. Rinkah brings one of Flora's hands (they are so small and soft and pale beside hers; Rinkah feels like an ogre who could crush her if she is not careful) to her lips, presses a kiss to her knuckles.  
  
"I didn't do it right last time," she murmurs. A coral flame burns in her core. "Could I try again?"  
  
She waits. It feels like an agonizing stretch of silence before Flora nods.  
  
Rinkah kisses her hand again, harder this time. And then to her wrist, to her forearm, the bit of skin just beneath the sleeve of her nightgown. And then her mouth moves up and she wants, she wants, she wants to taste Flora's pale lips beneath her own, listen to the burning in her core and the roraring in her ears and sink into the closeness until there is little left of her but steam.  
  
It is Flora that kisses first, her soft hands taking Rinka's cheeks in a tight, passionate way Rinkah did not know she could do and pressing their lips together. It is a kiss that makes Rinkah feel like steam is shooting from her lips— Flora’s lips are cold, cold to her hot temperature, but oh, gods, she does not mind. Her hands come to rest on Flora’s hips, bunching up the white Nohrian fabric of her nightgown, and she feels the chill. Flora cannot control it, Rinkah knows, but she doesn’t care. She wants it. She wants her. She doesn’t care.  
  
"Wow," Rinkah whispers.  
  
"Wow," Flora agrees.  
  
"Can I kiss you again?"  
  
"Only if I can kiss you back."  
  
They kiss again. Rinkah's hands clasp her by the waist, feeling the chill of her skin through the thin fabric. Flora moves closer, her knee on the other side of Rinkah's torso. Rinkah's arms move around her back, resting on her hip and her shoulder, clinging like a vine— though it is an analogy that falls apart the more she thinks about it. There are tongues and lips and teeth and hands on waists and cheeks, and Rinkah feels the fire in her core burning brighter, hotter, heating her face and making her blood feel as if it's boiling in her veins.  
  
"We should've done this a long time ago," Rinkah murmurs, her lips breaking from Flora's and running across her pale cheek, pressing themselves to her jaw.  
  
Flora's loose hair tickles her cheek when she nods. Rinkah buries her face in the crook of Flora's neck. Her hair feels soft against her nose. It smells of cherries and cinnamon— there is a dessert they have in Nohr made of cherries and cinnamon, and Rinkah has never tried it, but she will not be able to without tasting Flora's neck beneath her lips and her tongue in her mouth like the rusty tang of blood when she bites the inside of her cheek. It fills her mouth and nose with a memory she won't forget.  
  
Rinkah's lips find stretches of pale neck, ghosting kisses along the underside of her jawline. The world shrinks itself to the two of them, tangled in the infirmary quilt, roaming hands and flushed lips and a sensation of hot and cold all at once. Rinkah is burning. She has never felt more at home.  
  
Flora's breathing is heavy with exertion. She pulls herself off of Rinkah's lips. Her hands move from her cheeks to rest on her shoulders— strong and bare, brown in Hoshido's plentiful sunlight. On Rinkah's weathered skin, Flora's pale hands, pinkish at the fingertips, look like those of a porcelain doll. But Flora is not a fragile thing to be dusted and set upon a shelf. She is, and Rinkah knows this, fully capable of defending herself (and true, Felicia is better at it— but Flora is no slouch). A strand of hair has fallen across her face. Rinkah pushes it back.  
  
She is beautiful. Rinkah's words catch in her throat.  
  
"Hi," she says instead, and Flora laughs, breathless. It is the realest laugh Rinkah has heard from Flora since they met. Flora lets her shoulders slouch, her head drop onto Rinkah's shoulder. And it is funny, truly, and Rinkah allows herself a smile.  
  
Flora pushes herself back up, at the length of her arms. "Hi," she replies. "You look lovely."  
  
"I could say the same to you," Rinkah admits. "And, you know— when I'm with you, I keep… thinking. Having these thoughts, of what it might be like to get closer. And perhaps if we'd been able to when we danced, we would've gotten around to this sooner. And I would like that, if it's alright with you." (Flora is no porcelain doll, but still, Rinkah must be careful.) The words have tumbled out of Rinkah's mouth before she can think about them— this happens more often than Rinkah would like to admit.  
  
Flora doesn't know what to make of the spiel, and she flushes. Rinkah feels blessed and priveleged to see it. "You should know this isn't how we do relationships in Nohr."  
  
"It isn't how we do it in Hoshido, either," Rinkah says. They kiss again, gentler this time, slower. Rinkah lets herself savor Flora's lips, running her tongue along the top row of her white teeth. Flora's lips are soft, pink things— they remind Rinkah of flowers. Rinkah caresses that bottom lip with her teeth, lets her tongue trace it as their mouths pull apart naturally.  
  
"So what are we doing?" Flora asks, her voice soft. "This isn't— a dance and a lot of kissing doesn't make us…"  
  
"You can say it," Rinkah says. "Love. It doesn't mean anything."  
  
"But it does," Flora insists. "You know. And I… I don't… Well, it's complicated."  
  
"I've never been one to dance around issues," Rinkah says bluntly. "And, Flora."  
  
"What is it?" Flora asks, and she's not meeting Rinkah's gaze. Rinkah reaches up and tucks some hair behind her ear. She lets her fingertips linger ghosting over Flora's skin for what is, perhaps, a touch longer than necessary.  
  
"I've wanted this," Rinkah confesses. "For a long time. The conversations we've shared, what I've learned from you— until the dance we shared, those months ago, I never thought anything of it. But I love being around you, learning more about what drives you to be who you are. And you're so gentle and elegant and kind, I feel like a mountain ogre next to you— and it makes me feel so angry, and so scared that I'll do something to hurt you. But I wouldn't be able to stand not knowing you, not being able to… to talk with you on this level, like… like friends."  
  
Rinkah isn't done. She takes a breath— there's no stopping now. "And I didn't think we were friends, because that didn't feel like the right word. Because friends aren't supposed to want to kiss one another, touch one another like lovers would. But I want that, Flora, and I can't stop wanting it. I don't know why. I… don't know what will happen, if I allow myself to think about it. And I know you may not feel the same, but I couldn't bear keeping it a secret. Y-you deserve to know, but I'll honor your wishes, whatever way you feel about it… about me."  
  
She's certain she's flushed cherry-red by the time she's done. Flora, still atop Rinkah's torso, clutches a hand at the neck of her nightgown. She is beautiful, Rinkah realizes, and no words in common-tongue or Nohiran or Hoshidan or any regional dialects thereof would capture the grace, the elegance in the way Flora is without effort. Rinkah wants nothing more than to hold her, feel her heart beating steady and smooth, know she is real and alive and is not about to leave or hide anytime soon.  
  
"Oh, my," Flora says, and her voice is smaller than Rinkah has ever heard it. Rinkah has seen Flora bend before, and she is flexible— like ice, she shapes herself over time to be strong but fluid, and as a consequence, completely unbreakable. But Flora has always sounded strong. Now she sounds like the world has been yanked from beneath her feet.  
  
Rinkah wants little more than to un-say what she just said— the entire speech, tucked back in the depths of her mind where it can't hurt anybody or make anything awkward. Because that's what it's done, and the awkwardness it created is, to Rinkah, palpable. If she'd just never bothered to question it and gone on instinct, they could've gotten the tensions out and gone on with their lives. But Rinkah had to go and confess her love to the first girl with soft lips and kind eyes that's willing to give her the time of day, all because something posessed her to come clean.  
  
Flora goes quiet for a long time— second after agonizing second. She hasn't pulled away from Rinkah yet, though Rinkah is just waiting for her to do so. She is, at the same time, so tantalizingly close that Rinkah has to fight every urge she has to kiss her again.  
  
"It does mean something," she finally says, her voice quiet. "Love, I mean. At least it does to me."  
  
"That's not what I—" Rinkah tries to fix it, but Flora isn't done.  
  
"I know what you meant, I know," she says. "It's… but I've never thought about it. I've always been so focused on my tribe or my job, and even now that I'm not a— a hostage anymore, I still… it's a hard habit to break. But love? Me?" Flora gives a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "I didn't think it would ever happen. And, honestly, I was alright with that."  
  
Rinkah frowns, but stays quiet. She brushes Flora's hair behind her ear again, her fingers more impossibly tender than she thought possible. The moment is filled with the soft lace of Flora's nightgown and the low warmth of the quilt and afternoon sunlight through blue cotton curtains woven impossibly fine on massive looms and dried in Hoshidan sunshine, soft touches and muted colors and sounds that feel pleasantly numbing to Rinkah's sharp ears. It is quiet and tender and Rinkah wants to make it last forever, and it saddens her that she may not discover another moment like this again.  
  
"But then you happened, and," Flora says, the words coming out in a rush— an avalanche, what happens when layers of ice and slush pile up too high on mountainsides. "And suddenly I'm thinking about what to say to you next, how I'll ask you to sit with me at mealtimes, practicing how to act where you won't notice how I feel, and I keep thinking about love like it's something— something I can achieve."  
 She takes a breath, her head low. Rinkah reaches up, hesitates, and then sets a hand on her cheek— gently, the way she'd clear cobwebs from a corner without disturbing anything else. Flora doesn't lift her head, but she sets her small, cold hand on top of Rinkah's. (Her hands are so much smaller, Rinkah's looks like a paddle.)  
  
"We can talk about it another time, if that's better," Rinkah offers, but Flora shakes her head.  
  
"No, no, I needed— I needed to bring it up sooner or later." Flora sighs, and runs her free hand through her hair. She's flushed in a way Rinkah has never seen her before, red all the way to her ears. Rinkah feels a pang of something in her chest, like the implacable urge to hold her, hold her, hold her until the world ends outside their door and nothing else matters. She clenches her fist, digging her nails into her palm, to distract her from the impulse. But Flora is still talking, and Rinkah needs to listen.  
  
"I never thought about love, or anything," Flora says, taking a breath, trying hard to regain her ever-present composure. "A-and now I have, and it's because of you, and… it scares me, honestly. I don't know what to do. I don't know if I'm good enough, or, if I'll be what you expected me to be, or… you know?" She sounds like Felicia when she stammers, though Rinkah isn't going to say that.  
  
"I understand," Rinkah says, after a pause. "I'm scared, too. It's new and different."  
  
Flora laughs. "You? Scared?"  
  
"Hey, it's happened," Rinkah protests. "You're so… gentle. And elegant, like ice. And I keep worrying if I touch you too hard, you'll break— or melt, as the case may be. And," she takes a breath before she continues, "I know you're far from helpless, perish the thought, but. I'm still afraid of what might happen if I don't know my own strength."  
  
Flora nods. "You won't break me," she says.  
  
"And you'll always be good enough, but the fear is still there," Rinkah replies. "It's a new thing for both of us, isn't it? Love, I mean."  
  
"Love," Flora repeats, as if trying to affirm that it's real. "And we… yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," Rinkah agrees. "Yeah, we do. I hope, anyway."  
  
"Otherwise we've just made this unnecessarily awkward," Flora exhales, and then she laughs. Rinkah, though her cheeks are burning, laughs too. The tension dissipates, and talking feels much easier.  
  
"I'm glad I could tell you that," Rinkah says. "So we could say it. Gods, what were we waiting for, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, goodness, I don't know," Flora shakes her head. "So that means… we should say it, right? You go first, or…"  
  
Rinkah nods, then leans up, getting closer to Flora's ear. Compromising, Flora leans down. Rinkah can feel the chill of Flora's skin through the air on her lips. She presses a kiss right in front of Flora's ear, and then whispers, almost inaudibly, "I love you."  
  
She says it again, louder, and kisses Flora's cheek. Her eyebrow, her forehead, the bridge of her nose— Flora is bright pink and she takes Rinkah's cheeks in her hands before Rinkah can say it again.  
  
"I love you, too," she says, and Rinkah cannot keep herself from smiling when their lips meet.  
  
This, Rinkah decides, is the happiest she has ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> look i have way too many feelings about this ship they just need to make out


End file.
